Battlestar Hermes: Division 731
by The Wilky Bar Kid
Summary: If victory means survival then how far can you go to ensure victory? During the First Cylon War Division 731's purpose was to achieve victory anyway they could.  Rated M for Violence/Medical Horror
1. Chapter 1

**Foreword**

**This story is intended to sit alongside the main Hermes stories. As well as in "Faststar", the activities of Division 731 will resurface in later stories as the series progresses.**

**Before reading this story I would like to ask you all one question;**

**How far would you go if the cost of failure was annihilation? **

**That's what this story is about. **

* * *

**Excerpt from "Battlestar Hermes: Faststar". Chapter 13**

**Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge  
41 Days since 'The Fall'**

"…It was the base of operations for the MoI's Division 731 before the project was disbanded," explained Galit Malka.

"What project was that exactly?" asked Imlay almost having to dare himself to speak.

Galit lifted her head up to face Artimus Bowman. She then stood up and walked up close to him, so close that he was sure that if he listened carefully enough he could hear her heart beating.

"I told you earlier that captured Cylon Centurions were experimented on at that base. Well that was only half of the truth. The other half is that Division 731 also experimented on other prisoners._ Human _prisoners!"

"What the frak does that mean?" uttered Bowman not sure he had heard her correctly. "What type of prisoners?"

"Convicts mostly," she explained. "Murderers, traitors, political activists, the list goes on."

"Gods!" gasped Imlay. "What kinds of experiments?"

"Division 731's purpose was to find a way to end the war with the Cylons as quickly as possible regardless of how that goal was achieved..."

* * *

**Virgon**  
**The First Cylon War**  
**47 Years Earlier**

A bitter cold wind brushed over the barren landscape as Virgon's southern winter took hold. It was just after midnight that the two sentries started yet another patrol of the northern fence line. Their whole bodies were covered over in thick protective winter clothing so that not a single piece of flesh was exposed to the elements. To do so would only invite frostbite the result of which could spell the end of a limb or worse. With rifles slung over their shoulders they marched their way along the perimeter checking in with base security every twenty minutes via their own coded personal wireless sets.

Phoran was located on Virgon's south eastern most continent and was built in the snowy Adad mountain range which sat over 4,000 meters above sea level. The base itself was built around an abandoned fortification constructed over 2,000 years ago at base of a valley where the high and jagged rocks on all sides provided natural protection from attack. The fence line that the sentries were patrolling had three separate layers each over three meters high with barbed wire curling along the top. Each layer of fencing was spaced a meter apart and buried into thick concrete that went deep into the ground. These measures were necessary for Phoran was home to Division 731 of the Ministry of Intelligence.

It was perhaps the most secret base in all the twelve worlds.

A scream echoed through the night air and into the snow capped mountains. It was a scream that would cause the heart of anyone who heard it to skip a whole beat. The sound was of a man in immense pain; a pain that cannot be described to be truly understood.

The two guards came to a sudden stop both looking back towards the main compound, the sound having emanated from behind the three storey building. They heard the scream again ringing through the air having perhaps an even greater effect on them than the previous time. The agonizing scream was suddenly drowned out by the sound of a pistol being fired. The compound fell silent once more.

"All sections report status as green."

The disembodied voice crackled in their wireless headsets. They didn't need to respond. They had heard similar sounds before and knew that they were to simply forget them this being standard protocol for the hand picked guards at Phoran. The two of them began to proceed onwards with their patrol when the quiet was once again disturbed, this time by a loud whistling sound being carried over the valley. Looking out through the fencing they saw a small object appear over the jagged tops of the mountains silhouetted by the white snow capped rock. Now in line-of-sight to Phoran the pilot of the small White Hawk tilt-jet transport activated his formation lights that blinked back and fore.

The White Hawk passed low over the heads of the guards kicking up snow as the two engines mounted on the extremities of its short wings tilted downwards bringing the craft to a sudden halt before holding it in the air just in front of the main compound. A bright white beam of light emanated from the bottom of the aircraft allowing the pilot to see what was directly below him before he reduced power to the engines and the aircraft slowly descended onto the ground.

* * *

MoI Lieutenant John Bledsoe peered through the blinds of his office at the craft landing outside. Like most members of Division 731 he had been apprehensive of seeing this particular aircraft arriving with its VIP onboard. Dr William Farrah was a special assistant to the President of the Twelve Colonies and had come to inspect the work that was being conducted at the base. He was a close and personal friend of the President who was entrusted with the secret of the experimentation being carried out there.

"Is that him?" asked the young woman sitting on a chair in front of Bledsoe's desk.

"Yep, that's him," uttered Bledsoe as he released the blinds that snapped back into place to cover the window.

Laid out on Bledsoe's desk were numerous components from a Cylon Centurion including the entire head unit. Much of it was charred and stained black from having been destroyed in combat with Colonial Forces.

"So where did you say this came from?" she asked.

"From the fighting in the Euryale Forest on Gemenon," explained Bledsoe as he sat on the other side of his desk. "The Marine techs who analyzed it said they had noted several unusual features in the design of the arm mechanism. I've had Dr Xander take a look at it."

"So what's unusual about them?"

Bledsoe picked up the specific piece that had sparked the Marines' interest and looked at it closely once more having spent much of the afternoon analyzing at it with Dr Cyrus Xander, one of the original scientists who had developed the Cylons at Graystone Industries and was now a member of Division 731. After a few seconds he simply dropped the small shoulder mounted arm motor onto the desk as he grumbled, "Frak all! Some over zealous Marine who don't know a can opener from a…a toaster thinks he's got something interesting so it gets sent to us to waste our time with."

"Are you ok? You've been on edge all day," she said to him noticing how stressed and short tempered he had been. "Is this because of Farrah?"

Bledsoe sighed.

"Ainsleigh's been fired up all day," explained Bledsoe referring to Deputy Director Shane Ainsleigh, the head of Division 731.

"Does he think Farrah will try and shut us down?"

"Almost certainly," said Bledsoe rubbing his tired eyes. "People just don't understand what's going on out there, Angela. The press is being kept on a tight leash regarding the truth about this war. Gemenon. Tauron. Sagittaron. They're turning red with blood and not just soldier's blood; women and children too. Even their dogs and cats for frak sake! The Cylons are just killing for the sake of killing. Our work here will help to reverse that. They've got to be stopped and soon."

"Then we've got nothing to worry about have we?" said Dr Angela Levinstein, one of the most senior doctors at Phoran and close friend of Bledsoe. "This guy knows the score as well as any of us."

"Twenty one years," sighed Bledsoe.

"Twenty one years," repeated Levinstein confirming what she had been referring to as 'the score'. "Given our current attrition rate in combat the Human species will be extinct within twenty one years. That is of course providing the Cylons don't unleash some new bio-weapon before then. Why they haven't done so already is anyone's guess. I would if I were them. Why get your hands dirty killing people the old fashion way when you can just unleash the old _silent enemy_ on a population and wait for them to just…expire?"

"Then let us be grateful you are on our side," said Bledsoe in a joking kind-of-way.

"At the end of the day, John," she started waiting for his full attention before continuing. "The one thing about facts over opinions and educated guesses is that you cannot ignore them."

"If only that were true."

"He did get a briefing on some of the work we do here so he's not exactly walking into this blind," she said trying to relax him.

"Yeah?" said Bledsoe disbelievingly. "Once I went paragliding on Scorpia. On the flight there I read a one hundred and twenty seven page long magazine all about it but it didn't even come close to preparing me for how frakking scared I was leaping off that cliff with what looked like a broken tent above my head."

Levinstein started laughing and soon Bledsoe joined in. Their laughter was short lived however as the door to Bledsoe's office suddenly burst open. An old looking man in a gray suit stormed in and stood infront of them as Bledsoe and Levinstein shot to their feet.

"Director!" greeted Levinstein with a nod.

Deputy Director Ainsleigh ignored her greeting and turned to Bledsoe. "Are you finished with this crap?"

"Yes sir," said Bledsoe.

"And?"

"Nothing of any significance to report," said Bledsoe.

"Very well," said Ainsleigh. "The two of you had better get ready for the baseline briefing for Farrah. I'll introduce you to him. Don't speak unless you are directly spoken to. Clear?"

"Yes Director," said Bledsoe and Levisntein in unison.

"We only need to tell Farrah what he wants to know. There's no need for anything else."

With those words ringing in their ears, Ainsleigh turned and left the room leaving the two of them feeling distinctly unsettled – a relatively pleasant experience compared to some of the other emotions experienced by people at Phoran. The two of them looked at one another and knew they had to move quickly.

* * *

"This is Lieutenant John Bledsoe," explained Ainsleigh as he and Farrah entered the projection room where they were about to view some of the work that had been conducted by Division 731. Farrah held out his hand and he and Bledsoe shook once. Farrah was quite an unimposing looking man. He was in his early forties with a skinny, almost frail looking body. His hair parted on the left side of his head and was showing signs of gray along the roots. "The Lieutenant is my aide. That's a rather nice way of saying I dump most of my crap on his head. And this is Dr Angela Levinstein, head of our biological research department."

"I see," said Farrah shaking hands with Levinstein. "So, much of this work is your idea?"

"Some of it, yes," she explained with a slight and pride filled smile. "The rest builds on work conducted by several leading biochemistry and medical labs throughout the colonies."

"I see," said Farrah before moving along to the third and last person standing in the line-up. Farrah held out his hand and greeted the man in a rather cold tone of voice. "Dr Xander I presume?"

"That's correct," replied Cyrus Xander, a man who had become used to the scorn of others having been one of the leading scientists who designed the Cylons second only to Daniel Graystone himself. As one newspaper on Sagittaron had written shortly after the war had begun he was one of the 'architects of the apocalypse'.

"Dr Xander is in charge of our Cybernetic warfare team," added Ainsleigh.

"I see," said Farrah. "Well then, shall we begin?"

"Of course," said Ainsleigh directing Farrah to a seat at the front of the descending rows of chairs that lead to the projection screen.

Ainsleigh and Bledsoe sat either side of Farrah deliberately making the President's assistant feel quite boxed in. This was a deliberate effort on the part of the MoI officers who were masters at the Psychology of their game. They were in control here and they wanted to make sure Farrah knew it. With a guard positioned outside the closed door the highly classified briefing began as the lights lowered and the screen glowed blue with white words emblazoned across the front.

Farrah read them with his eyes;

_Ministry of Intelligence File#26710-C. Division 731. Baseline test. _

Levinstein and Xander stepped up to the front taking positions to the left of the screen. It was Levinstein who took the lead while Xander merely stayed silent and out of the way. She picked up the handheld controller for the projector before turning to face her audience. She cleared her throat before proceeding to begin her briefing.

"Division 731 was formed three years ago as a think-tank to meet two basic aims set out by the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence. The first aim was to establish what went wrong with the Cylons? What caused them to rise up against us? Was it some computer virus or was it something to do with their basic programming that gave them sentience and with it the desire to break free? The unfortunate truth of this matter is that we are no closer to figuring that out now than we were three years ago despite the best efforts of Dr Xander and his team. While we are continuing our research in this field it is in achieving our second aim that we have made the greatest advancements. Division 731's second goal was to try to improve the physical and biological capabilities of our fighting forces in the field. Now at first our efforts remained theoretical but after Ostarsis was invaded by the Cylons we were authorized to proceed with human testing."

Angela licked the 'NEXT' button on the controller and the screen changed to footage of three men standing in what appeared to Farrah as a room inside any standard hospital. Their hands were bound behind their back however and hoods were placed over their heads. Apart from their underwear they were completely naked. Each one was physically fit looking with no apparent injury or illness.

Dr Angela Levinstein soon appeared on the screen and began inspecting the men before turning them around to allow the camera to view them from every angle. As the video played out she continued to explain.

"These three test subjects represent our baseline test models. Before we could begin our work we had to establish a set of basic results with which to compare future results. These test subjects were selected because they physically represent the majority of our still male-dominated armed forces in the field. These three were all found guilty of deserting their units on the frontline. They were sentenced to death but it seemed a shame to waste them."

As he watched and listened Farrah noted that this was the only time she had referred to them in a personal way. Otherwise they were simply referred to as test subjects. On the screen, one of the men seemed to resist being manhandled by her and a guard appeared from off camera before beating the unruly 'subject' on the back with a truncheon. There was no sound emanating from the muted recording but Farrah speculated that Dr Levinstein was unhappy with the guard for reprimanding the prisoner this way.

Levinstein pushed 'NEXT' once again and the video changed to footage of the same three men being run around the main building of the compound during the daytime. Their hands were still bound and their hoods were still in place. Each one of the test subjects had two guards assigned who ran alongside them to keep them moving and upright.

"Before we could proceed with the main experiment the subjects were exercised vigorously to represent the kinds of physical stress they would encounter on the battlefield. They were then taken to the rear of the building where we had set up this apparatus."

The screen changed to a platform that had been built with a pole protruding from the top. At the bottom was a large funnel with a pipe that ran into a container at the bottom. In the middle of the pipe was a small wheel about the size of a coin that looked similar to the type found in old fashioned mills.

The first subject appeared on the screen and the two guards handcuffed him to the pole over the funnel. Farrah braced himself knowing that the main experiment was about to begin. The guards then strapped what appeared to be an old belt under the subject's armpits and around the pole before fastening it. Farrah was glad the man's face was still hooded as he waited for what he suspected was coming next. He listened to Levinstein as she continued with her briefing.

"The purpose of the baseline test was to recreate the exact level damage sustained from the impact of a Cylon bullet. From this we could then compare results of other tests as our program continued."

The guards stepped away from the bound man. The clip stopped and Levinstein clicked for the next clip to be played. The screen was parted into three sections. Each section had one of the three subjects bound to the apparatus. A few seconds passed without anything happening.

Suddenly and silently, each man's abdomen seemed to rip open with a large gaping hole. Flesh and blood began to pour from the wound as the men wriggled and writhed in pain. For just over a minute they each shook and trembled as the blood continued to pour from the wound until finally they stopped and slumped forwards being held upright by the belts under their armpits.

Farrah's chest was rising and falling quite rapidly as his breathing quickened but his face remained still and desperately trying to hide his disgust. Both Ainsleigh and Bledsoe remained quite calm by comparison while Xander stared blankly away from the screen.

"As you can see from this demonstration," said Levinstein, "just one bullet from a standard Cylon rifle is particularly devastating against unprotected Human flesh. This is thanks to both the power at which the rifle can hurl the projectile and the design of the bullet itself which is smaller and thinner than normal bullets but incorporate a series of folding spikes that pop out once the round leaves the chamber. Instead of a simple puncture wound the bullet lacerates as it rotates through the target making a Field Medic's job all the more difficult thanks to the heavy bleeding such a wound produces. Much of our work here involves developing more effective means of treatment. Our current efforts have produced results approaching the fifty-five per cent success range as opposed to the current forty-seven per cent."

"Yes," interrupted Farrah after nervously clearing his rather dry throat. "The results are impressive and the President is pleased with that but my assignment is to assess your work here and see how it is you have achieved these results."

"The President receives a full report from the MoI Director on a weekly basis," added Ainsleigh looking at the visitor to his base through the corners of his eyes.

Farrah's courage was slowly deserting him but he plucked up what little he had left to reply, "The word 'full' is open to debate. Your results are in full, of that the President has no doubt, but it is to the extent of the research you have conducted here to achieve those results that the President has decided to dispatch me."

"Just what exactly does that mean?" asked Ainsleigh. "Does the President feel that he is being deceived?"

"A lie of omission is still a lie," said Farrah carefully.

"Dr Farrah!" started Ainsleigh rising slowly to his feet to look down upon the visitor. "The President is aware of the work we do here as does the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence, the Secretary of Defense and several select members of the Quorom of Twelve. We have hidden nothing."

"In that case," said Farrah standing up to confront the head of Division 731. "You would have no objections to me staying for a few days to observe your work first hand?"

Bledsoe and Levinstein looked at one another sharing looks of both shock and amusement. It was quite amusing to see a bureaucrat such as Farrah trying desperately to hold onto his courage infront of the iron willed Ainsleigh. Xander remained motionless, almost catatonic.

"No," replied the Deputy Director with mild sarcasm. "No objections. Lieutenant Bledsoe will make arrangements for you to be put up in the guest suite. If there is anything you need then please speak to him. I assume there will be no need to waste our time with any further briefings this evening?"

"No," said Farrah. "No, I uh, wouldn't want to keep you or your team away from your work any further."

"Well considering that the local time is now fast approaching 0200 hours my team's work mostly consists of sleep. I suggest you do the same. Good night to you."

"And you," stammered Farrah as Ainsleigh walked away.

John Bledsoe walked upto Farrah and held out his right arm, "This way, sir, we have some quarters on the other side of the compound that are reserved for visitors."

"Thank you," said Farrah before quickly turning to Levinstein and Xander and wishing them both a good night.

* * *

**Thirty Minutes Later**

Lieutenant John Bledsoe started to unbutton the top of his jacket as he neared his quarters located on the east wing of the main compound. With the tight fitting grey shirt now loosened around his neck he felt his stress levels easing off just slightly before he turned in for the night in preparation for the next day. The corridors of the compound were stone and painted light beige in colour that had faded over time. Ainsleigh didn't care how the building looked as long as the work inside was completed at optimum efficiency – he was quite utilitarian in nature.

Bledsoe placed his key into the thick wooden door of his quarters located in a corridor that resembled an old prison. It served as a reminder of the sheltered life he and his colleagues were forced to live as members of Division 731.

As the door opened he quickly walked inside and closed it behind him only to find that someone was occupying his bed. The naked woman sat under the blanket holding a glass of Virgon Wine she had poured from a bottle that sat on the floor next to the bed.

"For frak sake, Angela!" gasped Bledsoe. "If Ainsleigh were to catch us-"

"I won't tell him if you don't. Come on, hurry up and get in! It's freezing!"

Most nights Bledsoe wouldn't have needed much persuasion to join her but tonight he seemed somewhat reluctant much to her annoyance. He slowly continued to undress in front of her causing her frustration to rise. After he threw his shirt onto the back of the chair sitting opposite him in an aggressive manner she chuckled at him, mockingly.

"What?" he asked angrily.

"I assume you've put Farrah to bed for the night?"

"Yeah, I put him over on C-floor East. Nothing really goes on over there."

"Ainsleigh is still all fired up about the little frakker. I guess in this case the giant was beaten by the pen rather than the sword."

"Farrah hasn't beaten Ainsleigh yet!" he declared.

"Well he's certainly won the first round," she said which gave him cause to look at her quizzically before she explained; "He's still here isn't he?"

He didn't answer. He just watched as she rather calmly took another drink from her glass.

"You're quite calm all things considered?" he asked her.

"What's there to worry about?" she replied taking another drink. Watching her callously consume the sweet tasting wine as if nothing was wrong turned his vision red. He threw himself at her and yanked the glass from her lips before smashing it against the wall.

"What the frak is wrong with you?" he yelled as he took hold of her wrists and pushed her down onto the bed. "Do you have any frakking idea what will happen to us if knowledge of this place gets out into the public? Do you?"

"Well that's better," she said smiling at him as he maintained his hold on her. "Keeping things bottled up was never your style."

"All Farrah has to do is go crying back to the Quorom and we will find our heads in a noose," he spat angrily trying to emphasize his point to her.

"If that is the case then we will have lots of company now won't we? The Director of the MoI. The Secretary of Defense. The President! No, we are perfectly safe. Secrets like ours get buried very deeply by the people who are the ones lining up to thank us."

He started to release his grip on her wrists.

"Nobody is beyond reach," he stated.

"From whom exactly? Look at you all screwed up like this. Fear doesn't become you sweety," she teased. "I didn't take you for a coward."

In one quick move he found his hands suddenly reach around her neck but he held off from tightening them as he realized what he was doing and that she was only playing with him. Even with his fingertips causing small bruises to appear on her neck her lips continued to smile seductively. She loved the danger. She feed on it. He couldn't understand how she could be so relaxed but strangely her confidence was somehow rubbing off on him. He was being pulled in by her emerald green eyes and slowly his anger and fear began to subside.

"Come on," she cooed. "You know it relaxes you."

He leaned down and started to kiss her lips, getting lost in her touch as he did so.

* * *

Through the two round transparent plastic eyepieces of his green protective suit, Ainsleigh looked upon the pathetic figure of a man stretched out on the bed in the corner of the small room. His skin was exposed from the waist upwards to reveal several hideous black boils that was slowly consuming his flesh. The smallest were no bigger than a postage stamp while the largest was the size of Ainsleigh's hand including the one that occupied the right side of his face. He was trying to scream from the pain but the infection had spread to his throat and had all but destroyed his vocal chords. Only a plastic straw inserted into his neck allowed him to breath.

Ainsleigh looked down at this failed 'experiment' with complete indifference. He may as well have been looking at a piece of old meat in a butcher shop. To him these were not people but materials to be used in developing new ways of treating injuries or fighting disease which was still taking its toll on the Colonial Forces without any help from the Cylons. A legendary Tauron General once wrote; _for every casualty sustained in battle, times that number by four to include those killed from sickness and disease and you reach the actual cost of war_.

Peering through the eyepieces at the chart that hung across the cold metal frame of the bed Ainsleigh silently cursed his misfortune. This had been the seventeenth time this particular experiment had been conducted in an effort to develop an injection that would help fight off radiation sickness. All had failed and ended in this way.

Ainsleigh dropped the chart onto the man's legs causing him to shudder in pain. He then walked over to a small box located on the wall of the room and took out a key that was hooked onto the belt of his protective suit. He unlocked the box to reveal a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

Taking the syringe back to the man on the bed he took the protective cap off the top and proceeded to stab it into the man's right arm before pushing the plunger down and injecting the liquid. He removed the needle quite crudely causing the tip to break off and remain in the man's arm. The man shuddered terribly before his eyes went blank and his body became motionless.

Tossing the empty needle into the 'sharps' bin he turned for the door leaving the body for the nurses outside to dispose of. Before leaving he took one last look at the body on the bed not as the end of a human being's life but as yet another roadblock this particular project had hit upon.

"Just have to try again tomorrow."

* * *

**Notes**

**Division 731 derives its name from the real-world Imperial Japanese Army Unit 731 who conducted medical experiments on Chinese, Korean and Allied prisoners during World War II. Many of those who participated in such experiments were never brought to trial since they were granted amnesty by the United States Government in exchange for passing on the data they had collected during these experiments.**

**The 'experiment' at the end of this chapter is to develop the radiation meds that we see being frequently used in BSG during the Caprica scenes of Seasons 1 and 2. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Phoran, Virgon****  
****Lieutenant John Bledsoe's Quarters**

Lieutenant John Bledsoe awoke from a restless sleep feeling drained and cold. Everywhere was cold at Phoran. The entire complex seemed devoid of warmth both physically and metaphorically. The work carried out there was as cold as the snow that was lying heavily on the ground around the main building. For those who worked there the experience had a dehumanizing effect. It was intentional for it was the only way anyone could really survive here. They all knew the cost of associating with any of the test subjects and they all knew the price of revealing the secret of Division 731. If they were to betray that secret then in all likelihood they would find themselves labeled as a "Test Subject" themselves, a fate far worse than any firing squad.

Angela Levinstein, who had spent the night with Bledsoe, had slipped out of the room while he slept. He was glad that she always did that. It made things easier. Their intimate relationship was a difficult one for both of them to fathom. They loved and hated one another at the same time. Perhaps if they had met under other circumstances they could have given their affection a genuine chance to blossom but having seen what the other was capable of in their line of work it was now an impossibility to suddenly settle down and have a 'normal' life. They knew that this place and the work they did would be with them for the rest of their lives.

He swung his legs out from under the blanket and his bare feet landed heavily on the ground. The left foot suddenly seared with a sharp shooting pain causing him to recoil suddenly. He looked down at the bottom of his foot and saw a trickle of blood running in a straight line down onto the floor from a small cut made into his skin.

His once sleepy eyes, now awoken fully as a result of the pain, scanned the floor of his room in search of the offending object only to find the floor littered with small shards of broken glass. It was then his mind replayed the events of the night before. He saw himself knocking the glass from her hand and it breaking against the wall. He remembered the heat of the argument he had with her and the raw passion of their love making that followed. It was a cocktail of emotions circling his head and his heart.

He wiped the cut at the bottom of his foot clean with a sock before limping across the room to the small sink underneath of which was a cabinet where he kept a basic first aid kit in order to treat this relatively minor wound. Once it was done and the cut was covered over in a small sticky-back plaster he picked up the pieces of glass in order to avoid cutting himself again before he started to get dressed ready for whatever today brought. This had not been a good start however.

As he tested walking on his injured foot the door suddenly burst open. Bledsoe snapped to attention even though he was still naked for he now found himself face to face with Deputy Director Shane Ainsleigh. Ainsleigh seemed oblivious to the fact that his subordinate was not yet in uniform or any clothes for that matter. Instead his piercing beady little eyes drilled into Bledsoe's who dare not look away from them.

"Good morning, Deputy Director," stammered Bledsoe caught totally off guard by his visitor who reached behind his back to close the door and give them privacy.

"I'm glad you've got time to stand there in your birthday suit in the middle of an inspection by a representative of the President," murmured Ainsleigh intimidatingly. Bledsoe tried to open his mouth to apologize somehow but it failed to obey him and he remained silent. "Farrah wants a demonstration of our efforts in the field of frontline medical assistance for our wounded warriors. He wants to see the practical side of things."

"Yes Deputy Director," said Bledsoe whose heart felt as though it had crawled up into his throat. "I shall arrange it now."

"You may get dressed first," said Ainsleigh in a not-so-funny-joke kind of way. Bledsoe was sure the words were meant as joke but Ainsleigh's voice was hardly humorous in tone. "Have the demonstration made ready for 0900hrs. It would be good to let Farrah have some breakfast so he has something he can vomit up."

"To be precise, sir, what kind of demonstration are you interested in giving him?"

Ainsleigh knew what Bledsoe really meant by his question.

"Radiological. And I want a _full_ demonstration, Lieutenant," said Ainsleigh without any hint of emotion or hesitance in his cold shrill voice. He then walked up to Bledsoe getting so close that Bledsoe could feel the other man's breath brushing up against his face as he breathed. "Get this straight Lieutenant; there is no sense in hiding anything from Farrah now that he is staying with us. He wants to know the truth then let's give it to him."

Bledsoe seemed shocked by his superior's sudden change of policy regarding Dr Farrah's visit which by now should have been over. Bledsoe's eyebrows curved inwards towards one another giving Ainsleigh a quizzical glare. "Sir?"

"The work we do here is vital to the survival of our species. I have come to the conclusion that the only way we can survive when men like Farrah come snooping around is to hit him with the hardest facts first and then show him what we are doing to save his pathetic little neck and billions of other necks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly sir."

"Good. Now get a Test Subject over to Levinstein ready for the demonstration."

"Yes sir."

* * *

**Subject Retention Corridor 3**

Adorned in his smartly pressed grey uniform John Bledsoe walked up to the small office located at the end of a long beige painted corridor. He tried to only come here when he absolutely had to and he never stayed very long. Given that this was effectively a prison, the term "Retention Corridor" being used rather euphemistically, he was often surprised at how quiet those Test Subjects being held here were whenever he came down to collect one. He presumed that the guards were rather quick to deliver punishments to those who were making trouble or that nobody wanted to bring attention to themselves in an effort to stay alive as long as possible.

Efforts were always made to insure that the Test Subjects remained oblivious as possible to the true nature of Division 731 until the time came for them to be used in an experiment. As far as those who were brought here were concerned, at least up until the time came for them to be called, Phoran was a high security prison that utilized harsh physical punishment.

"Good morning Lieutenant Bledsoe," said the larger of two guards who sat at their desk inside the small glass-partitioned office located just before the start of the long corridor containing the test subjects.

"Morning Sergeant Kaga," replied Bledsoe with a small nod of his head.

Sergeant Kaga was a Colonial Marine from Gemenon, one of a contingent assigned to Division 731 to guard the facility. He was a large man with every bit the physique one would expect of a career Marine. Kaga had served as a guard at Phoran for almost as long as Bledsoe had been there and the two of them had become familiar to one another but couldn't reach the level where they would call each other friends.

As Bledsoe thought more about it whilst exchanging early morning pleasantries he began to realize that he had no real friends within the Division. Only Dr Angela Levinstein was close to him in any kind of way and that was a difficult relationship at best. It was as if the environment refused to allow personal relationships to develop or perhaps it had more to do with the defences those within Division 731 put up over the hearts and minds in order to allow them to do their work.

There was only a small few who seemed to truly relish their work and Kaga was one of them. He believed that every Test Subject sent to the facility was there for a reason and that this was a just punishment. Kaga was one of the few who had access to the histories of the Test Subjects under his charge in Corridor 3 and so he was aware of what they had done to deserve their fate. A large number were deserters from the Colonial Forces fighting the Cylons. These he was especially strict with being a fighting man himself. The second highest proportion of Test Subjects were convicted murderers followed closely by rapists and child molesters. In these instances there was always a part of the Human mind that agreed with Kaga that this was a fate worthy of such individuals; Humans have always had a keen sense of justice.

It was the other groups that found themselves in Phoran that Bledsoe began to question their inclusion. These were mostly political activists many of whom were either opposed to the signing of the Articles of Colonization which meant that no colony was entirely self-governing any longer or were part of the Pro-Cylon Sentience movement which believed that as sentient lifeforms the Cylons deserved freedom as much as any Human. They believed that to grant freedom to the Cylons would end the war and thus refused to accept the war draft. A society gripped by war and fighting for its very survival labeled these men and women as traitors. Here, like the others, they were simply 'Test Subjects'.

Having finished the obligatory pleasantries with Sergeant Kaga, Bledsoe got to business.

"We require the next subject," uttered Bledsoe. In a bureaucratic society there is always a paper trail and Kaga had the paper history of every one of his charges but whenever Bledsoe came to collect the next subject no paperwork was handed over. Kaga's instructions were to be strictly adhered to that only Bledsoe or Levinstein could collect a Test Subject for experimentation for they would be acting under Ainsleigh's orders. This was to insure there was no written evidence to determine the fate of the Test Subject. Kaga's own paperwork regarding the individual subjects would later be sent back to the MoI for doctoring into something more palatable to the average person in Colonial society. Probably 'death by lethal injection' or 'suicide in prison'.

"Of course Lieutentant," said Kaga. "Right this way."

Kaga stepped out of the office and began walking down the corridor with Bledsoe and the second guard following close behind. The corridor comprised of the usual beige walls found all over the interior of Phoran with large metal doors placed approximately eight feet apart each one leading to a small cell. Beside each door was a small DNA scanner which required a thumb print from an authorized person to gain access. One thing that always surprised Bledsoe whenever he entered this corridor was the smell of disinfectant in the air. He was sure that those behind these doors believed that this was to fight infection and disease which was always rife in prison environments where people are crammed together in close quarters. Indeed this was not entirely untrue. The experimentation carried out at Phoran required the Test Subjects to be in as perfect and healthy condition as possible.

It was a short distance to the room numbered 3-1-9. Bledsoe watched as Kaga and his subordinate walked up to the door before the Marine Sergeant placed his thumb on the small DNA scanner. The scanner glowed green and a small beeping sound emanated from it before the bolts in the door slid to the side with a loud clunking sound signaling that it was open.

Kaga pulled the door open to reveal a small room with just a bunk placed against the right wall and a small aluminum toilet on the left just inches away. The prisoner quickly stood up at the sight of Kaga and the guard. Bledsoe looked at the prisoner over the broad shoulders of the two men as they quick-stepped inside the room. He was a young man in his early twenties with short scruffy hair and a thin layer of short facial hair curving around his mouth. He was a waif of a man whose small physique meant that his grey coveralls hung baggily over his torso.

"Prisoner number seven-three-one-nine-two-one!" barked Kaga at the young man, the next Test Subject. "About face!" The young man, trembling from the sound of Kaga's voice, slowly turned around so that his back was now facing the guards and Bledsoe. "Outstretch those frakking hands!" The young man shakily raised his arms out straight at a ninety degree angle in relation to his body. This was a routine that he and the others like him were used to. They would go through the same motions every time they were taken out of their cells regardless of the reason, often for exercise, so that when the time came for them to be utilized by Levinstein they would not suspect anything.

The other guard stepped forwards and took out a black hood from his belt which he proceeded to throw over the young man's head covering his face and neck from view. The guard then grabbed hold of the man's arms and harshly tugged them behind his back for handcuffing him. The Test Subject was now ready to be moved.

Kaga turned the hooded and restrained man around and lead him out of his cell for the last time. Bledsoe watched noting how little he resisted and began to presume that this man was either a deserter or pro-Cylon. Kaga instructed his subordinate to take the Test Subject up to Room Seven Alpha. This was the designation given to the main room were the experiments were carried out. This designation was, like so many others at the facility, used to further hide the true nature of what was happening to the Test Subjects who remained oblivious to the truth for almost their entire incarceration.

The other guard led the man down the corridor away from his cell. Once the two of them were out of earshot Bledsoe grabbed hold of Kaga by the arm and asked, "What did he do?"

Kaga was caught off guard by the question. He couldn't recall a time when Bledsoe had ever asked him about the history of any Test Subject previously. For his part Bledsoe felt compelled to ask this time. The inspection by Dr Farrah had undoubtedly caused him to rethink everything.

"He came home late one night after bingeing on drink and drugs and raped his 12 year old sister," said Kaga sternly without emotion as though he were reading a line in a newspaper.

"My Gods!" gasped Bledsoe in disgust.

"Don't sympathize with this bastard, Lieutenant," said Kaga. "He deserves everything he gets. And more!"

Those words rang in Bledsoe's mind as he watched Kaga walk away leaving him behind at the entrance to the now empty cell.

* * *

**Room Seven Alpha**

Room Seven Alpha resembled a large hospital ward. It was the epitome of medical sophistication within the Twelve Colonies being equipped with the most up to date medical equipment available. Those who staffed it worked tirelessly to maintain the sterile environment.

There were five unoccupied hospital beds along the furthermost wall each one meticulously prepared for its next patient. On the opposite wall there was a nurse's station with monitoring equipment linked to every bed and monitoring system on the ward. Behind the nurse's station was Levinstein's office.

At the far end of the room there was a large lead door placed beside window that looked into another room whose walls were made of the same kind of lead as the door. Inside the room was a vertically mounted cylindrical device with a hatch. It was wide enough for a fully grown Human to stand inside.

Bledsoe walked into Room Seven Alpha along with Kaga and his guard who were guiding the hooded Test Subject upto the nurse's station. Levinstein looked out through the window of her office and seeing that her Test Subject had arrived she quickly stopped typing on her computer and rushed outside.

"Ah yes," she said cutting off the nurse who had initially greeted them. "The back room please."

"Yes Doctor," said Kaga who proceeded to guide the hooded man across the room towards the large metal door where two figures adorned from head to toe in heavy NBC (Nuclear, Biological and Chemical) protection suits were waiting for them. Bledsoe watched as Kaga handed over the Test Subject to the two figures who proceeded to take him inside the room through the large lead door. The door closed behind them with a heavy thumping sound.

"You seem a little out of sorts today," said Levinstein breaking his focus of attention from the large metal door. She then leaned in closely and whispered seductively, "I thought we sorted that out last night."

"I'm fine," he uttered. "Just a lot on my mind. Do you know what that man did to deserve getting sent here?"

"Ainsleigh is very clear with his standing orders regarding Test Subject history in that it's best not to dwell on it. Just accept that they deserve it and move on. In fact I've heard you quote that rule more than once."

"You haven't answered my question," he said looking into her emerald green eyes that showed very little warmth anymore.

"It's not relevant now is it?" she replied defensively. "That's not a man in there. It's a Test Subject. Don't think of him as anything else or Ainsleigh might think you've lost your nerve. Perhaps he'll even have you labeled as a Test Subject."

"If that were to happen," he started looking even deeper into her eyes. "Would you operate?"

"It's my duty to carry out my research using _any_ Test Subjects that is sent my way."

"The worst part is I believe you," he uttered under his breath as he heard the shrill voice of Deputy Director Shane Ainsleigh approaching with Dr William Farrah in tow. Their conversation was thus cut short.

"Are we ready Dr Levinstein?" asked Ainsleigh as he and Farrah walked up beside them.

"Yes Deputy Director," replied Levinstein.

"Very well then," he said turning back to plant his beady eyes on Farrah. "In that case I shall hand you over to the capable hands of Dr Levinstein."

Farrah nodded in acknowledgement as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He had been dreading this 'demonstration' since watching the baseline video the night before of three men being executed by Cylon rifles. It seemed he was the only one who saw these people as Human beings. To everyone else they were Test Subjects and this seemed to be hammered into the minds of everyone at Phoran at every given opportunity.

"This way please," said Levinstein directing the small group to the window beside the metal door where the Test Subject had just been lead inside. As they walked the short distance across the large room Bledsoe could see the look of dread on Farrah's face and yet he admired the man's courage that he was continuing.

Once they reached the window Farrah looked in to see a room encased in lead with a large metal cylinder in the center of it that extended from the floor to the ceiling. On the front of the cylinder was a hatch just big enough for someone to squeeze inside. The protection-suited men were visible as they stood beside the tube but the Test Subject was nowhere to be seen. All of them, including Farrah, knew he was inside the cylinder.

"Dr Farrah," started Levinstein. "Before we begin this demonstration I want to give you a case history. Four years ago there was a battle between Colonial and Cylon forces near the orbit of Ostarsis. One of the Colonial vessels involved was an old Scorpian Guard vessel called the Cronus. During the battle the ship was hit again and again by low yield nuclear warheads fired by Cylon Raiders. This punctured numerous holes in the hull but the ship's own internal self sealing bulkheads prevented a catastrophic explosive decompression of the main hull. When the order to retreat was given the ship jumped away with the rest of the fleet. What the crew didn't know however was that in less than twenty four hours they would all be dead or dieing."

Farrah's eyebrows lowered quizzically.

Levinstein continued, "The ship was designed with self sealing internal bulkheads to prevent explosive decompression however they were not designed to absorb the amount of radiation that was seeping through the holes in the hull from both natural background radiation coupled with numerous nuclear blasts."

"But there are ways of countering those affects," interrupted Doctor Farrah. "Potassium Iodide for example helps absorb radiation at the cellular level."

"Yes but as I am sure you are aware they are only truly effective if they are already in the system at the time the dose of radiation comes into contact with the body. Can any of us really predict when that maybe? The Cylons have proven themselves to be experts in surprise attacks."

"I guess not," confessed Farrah.

"The answer lies in developing an easily administered injection that can rapidly stop the effects of the radiation on the body and then counter the damage already done. We've developed a serum that encourages the body's own immune system to reject and replace the irradiated cells."

"However the work isn't completed _yet_," interjected Ainsleigh quickly whilst emphasizing the word 'yet'. Farrah knew what he meant by it.

"With your permission," said Levinstein to Ainsleigh, "we'll begin."

"Proceed!" instructed Ainsleigh.

Levinstein turned back to face the window looking into the lead covered room. The two protection-suited men waited for the nod of approval from Levinstein which she quickly obliged them.

The man on the right accessed a control panel on the side of the long cylindrical object in the middle of the room. The observers outside the heavily shielded room couldn't hear it but a loud humming noise began to emanate in the room. There was also a series of knocking sounds coming from inside the cylinder. The Test Subject was banging his hands on the inside of the cylinder in a vain effort to escape.

"What are they doing?" asked Farrah whose mouth had become distinctly dry.

"They're building up high levels of radiation," explained Levinstein. "They are simulating the radiation from a nuclear blast in the 20 kiloton range on an unshielded vessel such as was in the case of the Cronus."

"You mean there's someone in there?" he asked although he knew the truth.

"No," shot Ainsleigh, quickly cutting off Levinstein as he liked to do to reinforce his point. "There's a Test Subject in there."

Bledsoe could see Farrah was getting sick of hearing those two words. As the radiation levels continued to build Bledsoe's own mind tried to picture this Test Subject, this man, committing the crime that warranted his being sent here to suffer this agony in the interests of medical science and Human survival. Somehow he couldn't picture it no matter how hard he tried. He was such a pathetic looking figure in that cell that he couldn't think of him as anything more than a victim himself – one of their victims. His train of thought was cut short when one of the men inside signaled that they had finished bombarding the Test Subject with radiation.

Everyone, especially Farrah, braced themselves for what they were about to see as the two men inside the room opened the hatch. The naked Test Subject slumped out of the opening and onto the cold lead floor. Feces ran down the back of his legs from where his bowels gave out under the bombardment of radiation. It was mixed together with blood from his intestines.

The Test Subject's skin was already reddening with terrible burns appearing on his upper shoulders and the top of his head. Slumping around on the floor like a fish that had washed up on land the Test Subject was vomiting heavily before there was no longer anything in his stomach to eject. There was no hope of him getting up on his own, he was barely conscious and his body was almost out of control.

The two protection-suited men rushed into action to administer the injection. They took him by the arms and began to turn him over onto his back before holding him down firmly to stop the almost uncontrollable movements he was making. As they manhandled him several of the blisters on his skin began to break causing discolored blood to begin seeping out onto the floor. This was known as Hematopoietic syndrome and the bleeding was a result of a drop in red blood cells and low platelets.

The man on the left took out a syringe and jabbed it into the Test Subject's neck. The Test Subject didn't specifically respond to the needle breaking the skin. He just lay there continuing to shake and attempting to vomit. The serum was injected into his neck and there was an almost instantaneous response. The shaking slowed and then stopped. A few seconds passed and the vomit reflex also subsided. The Test Subject now just lay there bleeding from the sores and burns across his body.

"As you can see," said Levinstein to Farrah, "the serum is faster acting than previous treatments. Even in this undeveloped form we have managed to increase a patient's chance of survival by seventeen per cent. However the actual number that translates into is still pretty low which is why we are still working on the second stage of the injection which will help the body fight off and replace the damaged cells in the body."

Farrah was listening but his eyes remained fixed on the Test Subject who was now laying almost motionless on the ground his blood, vomit and feces leaving a trail behind him from the cylinder that had bombarded him with radiation. The two protection suited men were now administering basic first aid to him. Farrah could see that one of them had retrieved a standard field medic's pack from behind the cylinder and was using it to treat him.

"Why are they using that?" asked Farrah.

"What's that, Doctor?" asked Bledsoe almost absent mindedly forgetting for a moment that he was not the expert here.

"Why are those men treating him with a field medic kit when you have such sophisticated equipment in this room?"

"It's to better identify the serum's effectiveness under combat conditions," explained Levinstein. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you Dr Farrah that not every soldier in the field has access to such a facility should they be wounded."

"I guess so," uttered Farrah who couldn't help but see her logic. "What will happen to this…Test Subject now?"

"Every effort will be made to save his life in there," said Levinstein in a manner that seemed to seek his approval.

"What happens if your people are successful?"

Levinstein didn't seem quite prepared for that question. She had never been asked it before. Whenever she was discussing her work to her superiors or senior observers from the Ministry of Intelligence it never went beyond success or failure. She swallowed first before answering him.

"If we are successful in saving the Test Subject then we assess him and try to establish just why we were successful so that we can replicate the experiment and prove our success."

"What does your assessment entail?" asked Farrah.

"Exploratory surgery."

"I see," said Farrah. "And then what happens to them?"

"I'm sorry?" said Levinstein whose eyebrows had lowered as if he hadn't understood something.

"After exploratory surgery; are these people then incarcerated with other prisoners or are they used again?" Farrah could see the dumbfounded looks on the faces of those around him. As usual in these circumstances it was Ainsleigh who stepped in to reinforce a certain fact.

"They do not survive the exploratory surgery," he stated as a matter of fact. "Once they go under the general anesthetic their lives are over. For research such as this we need to remove most major organs and examine them thoroughly."

"I see," said Farrah trying to maintain his courage as he contemplated the horror of such a death.

"Never forget, Dr Farrah," said Ainsleigh coldly. "Each one of these Test Subjects have been found guilty of a heinous crime and sentenced to death for it. None of them are innocent in anyway."

"It still seems a little detestable," he uttered in response before recoiling at his slip of the tongue.

"You knew what we did here before you arrived," said Ainsleigh. "You were entrusted with our secret which is why the President sent _you_ here to assess our work. I'm sure the President is more interested to hear that we have sacrificed a few killers and rapists to give his soldiers a better chance of survival in the field against the Cylons. It seems like a small price to pay."

Bledsoe listened to Ainsleigh while he watched what was happening inside the room. Something had gone wrong with this particular demonstration. The two men in the protective suits were kneeling over the motionless Test Subject looking at each other before glancing back to see if they had been noticed. Bledsoe knew what was wrong. Ainsleigh did too. The Deputy Director clandestinely motioned for Farrah to follow him on the next part of the tour before he too realized what had happened.

Bledsoe was left alone standing at the window looking in as the two men dragged the now deceased Test Subject to the corner of the room, his skin rubbing against the finely polished floor making it more difficult to move. They were soon clearing the body away into a silver body bag before tagging it ready for it to be autopsied.

There was a sullen atmosphere between the two men for they knew that they would probably be reprimanded for losing this one so early into the experiment in front of a VIP. It usually took several hours at least for a Test Subject to expire. They seemed to not care about the life that had just been taken away only what it meant for them.


End file.
